


I See Yours and Raise You

by EveryOtherUsernameWasTaken6604



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Agent Equanimity Token Black (Mentioned), Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angry Kyle Broflovski, Apologies, Arguing, Attempt at Humor, Badass Kyle Broflovski, Bank Robbery, Craig Tucker Being An Asshole, Crime Fighting, Drama, Fights, Fist Fights, Gambling, Happy Ending, High Roller Mark Cotswolds, M/M, Magic, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Persona 5 References, Plantbending, Realist Kyle Broflovski, Rosethorn Nichole Daniels, Serious Injuries, Some Humor, Superheroes, Superpowers, Supervillains, Swearing, Tecton Stan Marsh, Zero-Point Craig Tucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28311492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryOtherUsernameWasTaken6604/pseuds/EveryOtherUsernameWasTaken6604
Summary: Superhero work isn't easy by any means. Fighting villains is painful, hiding your identity is stressful, and working with people you don't even know by name is sure to create tension.Such is the case for Realist (aka Kyle Broflovski) and Zero-Point (aka Craig Tucker). What should have been a simple fight against one villain to stop a bank robbery becomes a petty disagreement in which some painfully personal insults are slung, and the two refuse to work together from then on!Will Realist and Zero-Point learn to overcome their differences and properly work as a team, or will they keep being petty, stubborn little shitheads? Will Agent Equanimity ever actually appear in a fic? Do Zero-Point's eyes hurt from rolling them so much? All this and more, in a thrilling edition of "I See Yours and Raise You"!
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Craig Tucker
Kudos: 18
Collections: Amaretto





	I See Yours and Raise You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Cryle Zine: Amaretto! It features several of the South Park characters you all know and love, as teenagers with superpowers- in an AU I created and have become somewhat obsessed with. I hope you enjoy said AU, and all the other wonderful Cryle works created for this zine!

A sharply dressed man skipped down the white marble steps of the South Park Bank. He wore a white suit with golden trims and cufflinks, and a black bow tie. His dark brown hair blew back in the wind, but he only shook his head with a smile and readjusted it. 

“Give into another vice...” he merrily sang to himself. Seeing him, nobody would know he had just robbed the bank behind him using superpowers. That is, if he wasn’t holding a very large briefcase full of money that clearly did _not_ belong to him (it was clearly marked as property of the bank in big gold text).

Mark Cotswolds, a.k.a. High Roller. His upbringing had been exceptionally sheltered: he’d been homeschooled for several years, and even when he’d been allowed to leave the house, he’d had a difficult time adjusting to a world he’d never known during his formative years. In an attempt to entertain himself, he’d purchased a cheap gambling set online—dice, cards, coins, and so on—for a remarkably cheap price, and soon discovered they contained a terrible power. Not only could they be used as weapons of a sort, but he could also gamble for nearly anything, and the strange magic woven into them would make it so. Eager to see what the world had to offer, Mark began using this power on all sorts of adventures—but he caused a great deal of collateral damage in the process, gaining happiness and fulfillment at the expense of the well-being of those that played his games. Though he had no malicious intent or desire to harm others, he proved to be a difficult enemy for the myriad heroes defending South Park. 

Two of which were showing up right now. “Ah, right on schedule,” High Roller sighed as they dashed across the street—rather recklessly—to intercept him.

The first was a shorter and thinner man wearing a burgundy coat, a small medallion around his neck, black boots, and a simple gray shirt and pants. A hood drawn over his head and an eye mask served to hide his face to some extent, though his violet eyes and locks of bright red hair were still visible. In a slightly high-pitched and nasally voice, he declared, “Stop there, High Roller. You’ll go no further.”

This hero was dubbed Realist (though his full civilian name was Kyle Mendel Broflovski), and wielded power over something he had called “reality energy”—the warp and weft of the universe that underlay every bit of matter. He was able to shape it into attacks or defensive fields. This energy was powerful and difficult to defend against or attack through, though it could be bypassed by those who could defy or change the nature of reality with their powers. He also wielded a power called “reality sight”, enabling him to see the world as it truly was without being fooled by illusions or psychic effects.

The other one sighed and rolled his eyes. He was taller and more muscular than his companion, with messy black hair topped with a blue-and-yellow chullo hat; he also wore a long-sleeved blue sweater with a simplistic purple void logo on it, deep black jeans and similar black boots to Realist. In his hands was a wrought iron medieval mace. “Let’s get this over with,” he said in an even _more_ nasally, yet stoic and practically emotionless, tone. 

Zero-Point was this hero’s title. Not only did he possess slightly above average strength and wield a devastating mace he called Ukhu Pacha, he could also control nothingness: attacking with voids or other forms of nothingness to weaken his foes, reducing their attacks to nothing, or storing things away in a small void pocket dimension. His civilian name, though, was Craig Adriano Tucker. 

“Sure, don’t take this _seriously_ or anything,” sighed Realist. 

“Not my fault fighting this asshole’s so boring.”

The villain smiled, no trace of malice in his expression, and produced a deck of cards from his sleeve with a flourish. “What say we make this interesting, then? A game of your choice...you win, I’ll surrender and go quietly. I win, and you’ll be rendered unable to use your powers against me for 48 hours, meaning I’ll surely escape and be gone before you can send anyone else after me.” 

The two heroes paused. After a moment, Realist stepped forward and nodded. “Very well, I’ll play. Blackjack?”

“Hey, what are you doing?!” Zero-Point protested.

“Excellent. Would you like to deal, or should I?” 

“I will,” Realist said. “I don’t want you to cheat.”

High Roller looked down dejectedly. “That’s honestly a little offensive...I value a fair playing field, but if it makes you more comfortable, go ahead.” He handed over the deck to Realist, who efficiently shuffled it and dealt both of them their cards. Frowning and tapping his foot against the ground, High Roller seemed to be thinking. Eventually, he said a concise, “Hit me.”

“If you insist,” Zero-Point muttered. Before either of the others could react, he gripped his mace in both hands, dashed up the marble stairs, and swung at High Roller’s stomach. 

The villain made a pained “hurgh” sound and flew back from the force of Zero-Point’s mighty blow, falling back through the open bank doors. His cards fell at his feet. Groaning, he attempted to stand…

Realist whirled toward Zero-Point and hissed, “What the hell was that?!” 

“If you lost that, we’d be fucked. I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

“I could have easily beaten him and spared everyone a lot of time and trouble!”

Zero-Point rolled his eyes. “Suuuure, you could have _outwitted_ him with your _huge_ brain and _genius_ intellect. So you could have a story to tell the reporters about how cool you were.”

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating…”

“Ahem!” High Roller had stood up and fixed his disheveled bow tie. “Fine, I take it blackjack isn’t your game. No problem at all!” A grin danced over his face, and he raised his hand, palm out. “Maybe ‘52 Pickup is more your style!”

The cards scattered around glowed with a faint yellow sheen, and the hand in Realist’s grip and deck stored under his arm did the same a moment later. They slowly began to drift toward High Roller. Realist crossed his arms and huffed, “Rude.” His gaze followed the cards as High Roller raised his arm parallel to his body, causing the little rectangles to suddenly shoot into the air. “Oh, that could be an issue.”

The cards’ glow seemed to intensify, and their sharp corners glinted. They hovered in the air for a moment, then sped down toward the pair. 

Realist looked up and raised both his hands, and a square-shaped pinkish-purple light appeared over both of his palms. They expanded outward, and a large wall of shimmering pink-purple energy appeared above them! The cards bounced off it harmlessly, and Zero-Point took the opportunity to dash out from under it and prepare to launch another attack at High Roller. 

The villain gasped, backstepped, and dug a small coin out of his breast pocket. “Then how about...oh, heads I win, tails you lose?!” 

He flipped the coin into the air and backhanded it at Craig, where it hit him square in the forehead with remarkable force. He stumbled back, but didn’t fall. Before he could react to the attack, though, High Roller had already lifted his hand and recalled the yellow-glowing silver coin. He flipped and hit it at Craig again, but Craig was ready for him this time: he brought his left hand up, and the coin was surrounded with pure black energy which soon enveloped it, making it vanish into nothing!

“Well played!” High Roller exclaimed. “But I won’t be defeated so easily!”

“Oh, shut it,” growled Zero-Point. He rushed his opponent again, but High Roller simply smirked and sidestepped him. The villain grabbed at his wrist and twisted it; Zero-Point gritted his teeth, winced, and dropped his mace. High Roller took the opportunity to grab it, and Zero-Point replied with an irritated, “Hey, give Ukhu Pacha back!”

“This is just _sad_ ,” muttered Realist. 

High Roller’s hands moved up again, and the cards embedded in Realist’s force field began to fly back towards him. Since Zero-Point was directly in front of him, the cards were heading right for his back, and would cause some nasty damage if something wasn’t done! Realist sighed and lowered his hands; the wall dissipated. Coat billowing behind him, he dashed to the right and raised his left hand. A circle of energy formed over his palm, and a beam of scintillating reality energy fired from his hand and streaked towards High Roller—it struck true! High Roller was knocked to his right with a grunt, and the cards redirected themselves towards him, avoiding Zero-Point. 

“You could at least thank me,” Realist said. 

“Yeah, I could. Not gonna, though,” replied Zero-Point. “Can we get my mace back?”

“Certainly. I think we should barrage him from a distance. He can’t use his powers as long as we refuse to play, but he has remarkable control over his weapons, so we need to be aggressive and not let him get any more attacks off.”

“If you insist.” Zero-Point shrugged and stretched his burly arms a bit. “I was gonna say that, though.”

“I’m sure. Just attack, would you? He gets up _really_ quickly, and it’s starting to piss me off.”

Realist extended his fingers and spread them out. A tiny line appeared on each of his fingertips, forming square shapes; then, a small bolt of reality energy burst from each one, the volley streaking at High Roller. Meanwhile, Zero-Point stepped forward and pushed one hand, palm out, behind him. Purplish-black light shone from it, and soon, a swirling, spiral-shaped void had appeared behind him. It whirled faster and faster, until a pure black dot formed at the very center; this dot began to fire a deep purple laser that aimed squarely at High Roller. The reality attacks hit him first, stunning him for a moment and allowing the powerful laser to hit directly.

“Urgh, damn you! Two against one...hardly seems fair!” cried High Roller. “Where’s the sport in it?” An air of desperation about him, he managed to clamber up and reach into his coat for something, but left Ukhu Pacha lying on the ground.

“Zero-Point, _now!_ ” 

“I know, shut up!”

Zero-Point sprinted for his weapon and made a dive. He felt oddly calm with the weapon in his hand, and by the time Mark realized Zero-Point was right next to him with a very large blunt piece of metal in his hand, he was already knocked flat. Zero-Point grinned confidently down at the defeated villain.

“Don’t touch my shit,” he warned. 

High Roller was arrested and the money returned in short order. As Zero-Point stood watching the villain be hauled off and silently gloated, Realist approached him from behind. 

“Well?” asked the ginger boy. 

“Well, what?”

“Are we going to talk about _that?_ ”

Zero-Point shrugged. Realist sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

“What you said to me. About how I just wanted to look cool and all that.”

Zero-Point shrugged again. _God, it’s infuriating how nonchalant he is,_ thought Realist. 

“What do you want me to say? You worry too much about looking flashy and it affects your work. ‘S why you boss everyone around, so you’ll still get the credit for ‘leading the team’ or whatever.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Realist cried. “How can you say something like that to someone on your own side?”

Zero-Point sighed, turned back towards Realist, and said, “I’m just callin’ it like I see it.” 

“So you think you have the right to judge me, as if you know me? Please,” scoffed Realist. “Besides, it’s better that I put passion into my work, even if it _was_ for the wrong reasons like you say. Which it is not! Better than _your_ approach, anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t put any effort into anything. You roll your eyes and ask if you _have_ to, and then when we get into a fight or a rescue mission or whatever it is, you rely on me or Lady Noument or Agent Equanimity to bail you out.”

“That’s not—” protested Zero-Point before being cut off. 

Realist retorted with a snippy, “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

“I was _carrying_ your ass in that fight. My back hurts now from how heavy it was.”

“Oh, as if. You know what your problem is? You rush in headlong because apparently this is all such a boring inconvenience for you, and that’s the quickest way to get it done so you don’t have to lift a finger or waste your precious time, and then—”

Realist noticed Zero-Point’s hand was opening and closing as he spoke, as if mimicking him. 

“Oh, that’s _really_ mature,” he sighed, crossing his arms. Zero-Point continued to childishly mock him as he tried to get a word in, but the hero eventually groaned and gave up. “Fine! If you really hate working with me that much, there’s a simple solution—don’t! Don’t go on any more missions with me, don’t speak with me, don’t even acknowledge my existence!” 

“I thought you’d never ask. Wonder of wonders, Realist, the walking savior complex, doesn’t want all the attention for once,” retorted Zero-Point, before turning around with his arms crossed and walking off, presumably returning to base. Realist huffed and went the opposite direction. 

They made good on their word. Over the course of several weeks, the two avoided one another completely; Realist informed the other members that he no longer wished to be paired with Zero-Point on mission assignments, and they respected his wishes on the matter. When they were resting in the heroes' high-tech, sci-fi-esque underground base of operations, they refused to speak or even look at each other (though one of them would sometimes pretend that they'd heard "the wind" or "a rat" or "some kind of annoying pest" when the other spoke).

Though the others tried to convince them otherwise, they wouldn't budge. 

"I don't know, Realist," said a brown-skinned girl (a.k.a. Nichole Korin Daniels) as she dodged an attack from a madly cackling caped villain. "I-it seems a little unhealthy to hold onto a grudge like this," she continued softly, her green leotard-like garment tensing up when she raised her hand to summon forth entangling vines from the ground. "I know, I know, 'silly old Rosethorn getting into other people's business where she's not wanted', but..."

On another mission some time later, a black-haired boy (Stan Blake Marsh was his name) punched a thug square in the jaw, before stopping to adjust his rock-like helmet. Sweat dripped down him and stained his white shirt as he said, "C'mon, Zero-Point, we're all friends here. You should try and make up with Realist! It can't hurt...or, I don't think it can." 

But all he got in return was a "Shut up and start cracking skulls, Tecton," from Zero-Point. 

The other heroes' attempts were futile as well. Even Lady Noument's insistence that the pair bury the hatchet or "suffer the dire consequences" seemed to have no effect; they were just too stubborn. Wendy groaned as the two went right back to pretending the other didn’t exist. Normally her commanding presence could carry her through tough situations like this…

Eventually, though, it was by chance that Realist and Zero-Point made up. 

They had both been sent out on patrol in areas fairly close to each other, though this was by coincidence: City Hall for Realist and the mall for Zero-Point. 

Realist skulked between pillars and in bushes, trying not to be seen; he wanted to avoid rousing any suspicion or frightening passersby. 

Zero-Point...really didn't care. He casually wandered around the mall, ignoring the screams of fangirls or the glares of annoyed security guards who couldn't ask him to put away his deadly weapon. It was hanging at his side and that was where it would stay, and he flipped the bird at anyone who looked at him funny for it. 

A distant scream and a loud crash sounded, causing his ears to ring. He looked up and dashed over to a window, where he could see a few people running in fear.

_Okay, maybe I will have to use it after all._

He shoved past a gaggle of mallgoers and barged his way out the front door to reach the parking lot. It was an unfortunately familiar face: High Roller, smiling and shaking his head. 

"Ah well, that's how it goes!" he was saying. “I mean, honestly, I _did_ say you’d lose your voice if you lost. It’s only for a day or so, you’ll be better before you know it!”

A nearby woman was shaking, backing away from him, and clutching at her throat.

“And really, isn’t that unpredictability the fun of it? I’m happy to play again if you want…”

“Come on, High Roller, give it up,” groaned Zero-Point from behind him. 

The villain whirled around and adjusted his bow tie with a smirk. “Why, hello again! I don’t suppose you’d want to play a game this time around?”

Zero-Point withdrew Ukhu Pacha from its strap on his belt, the metal clinking as he tightly gripped its hilt. 

“That’s a...no, I’m guessing?” High Roller inquired. He produced his deck of cards from his sleeves and fanned them out with a reluctant sigh. “Sorry, I just am not feeling well today at all! I can hardly think of any clever one-liners or quips…”

“Then give up and save everybody a lot of time and trouble.”

“But that would mean going back to jail! I can’t be cooped up in that cold gray place!” replied High Roller. “No, no, fighting is the only option for me right now. Let’s have a fair match, then, hm?”

“No promises,” replied Zero-Point as he bent down and stretched one of his legs behind him. Without any further ado, he ran directly at High Roller and prepared to attack with his mace. The villain hurled a few cards at him, but he managed to swat them away or make them vanish with his powers, and he was soon in High Roller’s face, launching a strong swing at his legs. 

High Roller groaned in pain as he was swept off his feet and fell to the ground. Zero-Point raised his foot to painfully stomp on his back. 

“Urgh! Bit harsh…” grunted High Roller. Though it was hard to move with Zero-Point’s fairly strong leg pinning him down, he was able to reach into his coat, pull out a small pair of red dice, and roll them without the hero seeing. A five and a three...not terrible. “You’ve forgotten something, though!” he cried with a smirk.

The dice glowed yellow, floated into the air, and flew at Zero-Point. They struck him from behind and knocked him away, which allowed High Roller to leap up. He grabbed at Zero-Point’s wrist again and forcibly slammed it forward; the hilt of Ukhu Pacha hit Zero-Point square in the nose and elicited a cry of pain from him. 

“You ass—” was all he could get out before High Roller punched his jaw, released his grip, and then kicked at his stomach. 

Zero-Point staggered back. Though he tried to reorient himself, the dice were still whipping around him and slamming into his body. The one with five dots on its face seemed to be hitting a little harder than the one with three, so it made sense to get rid of that one first...but he couldn’t focus long enough to reduce it to nothing with the constant attacks! Even worse, he saw High Roller drawing back his arms in preparation to throw some of his cards again—

Then, he heard a familiar grating voice chastising him. “Oh, come on now, Zero-Point. This is pathetic.”

Before High Roller could continue his assault or react to the new presence, he was struck with an orb of pinkish-purple light that exploded upon impact and disoriented him. The dice seemed to slow down...

The arrival, of course, was Realist, standing some distance away, with a suitably dramatic breeze blowing his cape and hair back. His hands had returned to the pockets of his coat, and he shook his head.

“I mean, really, struggling with _one_ villain who can barely fight up close?” Realist sighed. “Just goes to show how much you need me.” 

Zero-Point muttered, “Now who’s not taking it seriously…?”, but swiftly lifted his left hand and clenched it to use his power on the five-faced die. It was surrounded by black energy and vanished, and the same soon happened to the other die. 

High Roller turned to face this new threat. “Oh, it’s you! Maybe we could play again, without being _interrupted_ this time?” He shot a sideways glance at Zero-Point. 

"—Nope, that's not happening. Zero-Point, get over here." 

The black-haired hero moved over to Realist, and High Roller simply stood there. “Fiine, have your strategy meeting or whatever it is; I’ll wait,” he said. 

“So, what’s the situation on the dice you vanished?” whispered Realist. 

“Physical objects that I put in the little...void dimension thing...can stay for as long as I want until I pull them out, but I don’t have much that’d be useful here. Magic attacks or energy would just get absorbed into the nothingness eventually. But physical items that enemies send at me will eventually pop back out—some bullshit about the negative and hostile energy—and magic ones like those dice will come out way faster.” 

“So he’ll be able to use them again sooner rather than later,” mused Realist. “I’m going to go on the offensive for now so he can’t hit me and I have time to think. You just...I don’t know, do whatever.”

Zero-Point rolled his eyes and retorted, “A masterful strategy, indeed.” 

“Just leave me be, will you? Go punch him in the face or whatever it is you do.” 

Zero-Point turned back to High Roller and smirked. “Come on then, what else ya got?”

“Oh! That was quick,” remarked the villain. “Well, that coin wasn’t very effective last time...but what the hey, let’s try it again!” 

He raised the coin into the air, sunlight glinting off it, and tossed it at Zero-Point, who ran off to the right away from Realist. The coin bounced off the ground and shot back up, then down towards his head. He raised his mace over his head in an attempt to protect himself, but High Roller took the opportunity to throw a few sharp cards which sliced across his sleeves and left painful cuts on his arms. He winced but kept running, lifting his mace higher to then bring it down hard on the ground in front of High Roller. 

The strike sent debris flying up at High Roller! As he brought his arm up to shield his face, Zero-Point took advantage of his distracted state to swiftly elbow at his ribs. He followed up with a broad backhanded swing of Ukhu Pacha across High Roller’s upper body. 

Seeing the two clash, Realist began to cast the same volley of reality missiles he’d used in their last fight. The barrage of small bolts cut through the air and struck...Zero-Point, in the back. 

“Ow! Watch where you’re aiming, asshat!”

Realist glared. “Maybe you should stay the hell out of my way!”

“Maybe _you_ should stop blaming everyone else for your fuckups!” 

High Roller interjected, with an exasperated, “Maybe the both of you should stop arguing every time the slightest thing goes wrong! For goodness’ sake, you keep doing it and it’s making me really quite irritated!” 

Realist and Zero-Point stopped and stared at each other. He was right, but...

“Pull back, Zero-Point,” Realist muttered. “We need to talk.”

A sudden growling noise escaped High Roller’s throat. The two heroes returned to looking at him, only to see an _intense_ glare, a vein popping out in his forehead, and a tightly clenched jaw and fists. He looked like he could pop a blood vessel at any moment…

“As I said…” he slowly spoke, voice low, through his gritted teeth. “You are starting to upset me. You get in my way, beat me, lock me up! And you don’t even have the decency to take me seriously?!”

He abruptly and wildly swung his fist at Zero-Point’s face. His hit connected, and Zero-Point twirled backwards.

“You two so-called ‘heroes’ really piss me off!” he screamed. 

His frantic punches continued; caught off guard by the flurry of attacks, Zero-Point found himself unable to fight back, and soon fell to his knees some distance away. Realist pushed his palm at High Roller and fired a beam of energy, but it was easily dodged. Then, a faint clinking sound was heard. The three looked over to the spot where Zero-Point had been standing earlier. The dice had reappeared a short distance off the ground, fallen onto the pavement, and both landed with the six-dotted face upright. They glowed with a deadly yellow gleam...

High Roller smirked. “Wonderful,” he said as his right hand raised once again. His left hand grabbed his coin and flipped it into the air, then grasped the deck of cards, fanned them out, and tossed them up. All his weapons became suffused with that pale glow, and floated up before sharply turning to point directly at Realist. 

“That’s not good,” the hero whispered. 

The objects began flying at him at high speed. He swiftly threw up his other hand and formed a powerful wall of reality energy, but the attack was surprisingly powerful, and sweat dripped down Realist’s brow as he struggled to maintain concentration on the barrier. 

“I don’t understand you at all!” High Roller was shouting. “All I’m trying to do is live my life as I see fit, to see everything this wide world has to offer! What’s so wrong about that? Why can’t you simply leave me be?!”

Zero-Point, shocked back into coherence by the bright lights and screaming, began to slowly lift his head to stare at the clash.

Realist’s violet eyes flashed with rage. “How _dare_ you pretend you’re the victim here!” he screamed back. He felt his throat would go hoarse, his eyes hurt, his entire body was starting to strain with exhaustion...but he would _not_ give up now! “You became my enemy the second you involved innocent people in your little games! You’re nothing but a selfish child, who doesn’t know or care how his actions hurt others! And I will never abide by that kind of cruelty!”

Zero-Point gasped, an uncharacteristically emotional reaction for him. His limbs gradually seemed to gain feeling again, the pain in his face fading away, and he tried to stand…

“Shut your filthy mouth! If I’m a child, you’re a bully! The worst kind—a self-righteous one who hides behind grand ideals of justice and goodness that he doesn’t even truly believe in!” 

Light shone from Realist’s barrier as cracks began to spread out from its center! Realist grunted, his eyelids squeezed shut, trying with everything he had to keep control. But then, a scratchy, nasal voice spoke, and his eyes opened.

“Don’t...you dare...talk about him as if you know him…”

Zero-Point had managed to stand and lift Ukhu Pacha upright above his head. It glowed with a deep blackness which crawled up its cold metal surface to gather at the edge and form an orb. He pointed it at High Roller, and a bolt of nothingness launched from it. The villain was hit, and his weapons lost their glow and fell to the ground! With a deep sigh, Realist lowered his hands, and the wall faded out of existence. Zero-Point stumbled over to the other hero, who seemed on the verge of collapse, and took him in his arms.

“You okay?” he asked.

Realist leaned against him and shook his head. “Not...not really, no. Everything hurts and I could pass out at any second. Adrenaline’s the only thing keeping me conscious right now.”

“C’mon, man, one more attack.”

“I...ugh...think I can manage that. What did you have in mind?”

As they whispered frantically to each other, High Roller righted himself. Somehow, he was still able to stand. He tried to exert his control over the cards, dice, even the little coin, but they weren’t responding, and Zero-Point and Realist were turning back to him.

Realist lifted both his arms parallel to his body, and a purple-pink circle shone above his outstretched hands. These circles grew and merged, filling with reality energy—a massive ball of it hovering over Realist’s head and shining with light. 

“Justice and goodness are just self-righteous ideals to you? How pathetic,” sneered Realist. 

“Yeah,” nodded Zero-Point. “Might seem hard to believe, but I’ve got people and places I wanna protect too. I’m not letting you endanger ‘em to work out your sad backstory bullshit.” 

Realist’s arms bent and shot back up, and the orb flew into the sky. He lowered his arms again. Zero-Point climbed onto Realist’s joined hands, and jumped as the other pushed up. The wind whipped through his hair, nearly carrying his hat away; he skyrocketed towards the huge orb and raised Ukhu Pacha with both hands. He was above it now—

“Go down!” the heroes proclaimed in unison. 

Zero-Point slammed his mace down onto the ball of energy, sending it hurtling to earth. 

High Roller’s eyes widened, and he managed to whisper out, “Oh, cheese and crackers.”

The orb slammed into him and exploded with a blinding flash of light. Zero-Point suddenly found himself falling, but there were Realist’s arms, reaching out for him…

Before they knew it, High Roller was in handcuffs once again—and quite heavily injured, with bruises and bright red marks all over him. The evidence of the powerful duo attack that had finished him off lay behind him: a massive crater left by the explosion.

“Just you wait,” he spat. “All it takes is a little misdirection and some well-played games, and I’ll be out again before you know it! You can cage my body, but my soul will always yearn for freedom!” 

Zero-Point rolled his eyes at the display. He’d gotten enough strength to stand again, but the two of them were still quite tired.

“I’m wiped out,” Realist said. “We should...return to base. Get healed up.”

“Yeah. First, though, I’m—” Zero-Point awkwardly scratched the back of his head. 

Realist craned his head, though it made his neck hurt to do so. “Yes?”

“—Sorry. You know, about sayin’ you had a savior complex and all. That, back there, showed me you actually care a lot. And you were right—that’s more than I could ever do.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” said Realist with a shake of his head. “I should be apologizing for getting you all wrong. You were first to arrive and first to start fighting him. You showed more bravery than I ever will.” 

Zero-Point smirked. “Okay, fine, we’re both heroes and also stubborn idiots. Happy?”

“Very much so, yes. I’m...glad it was you by my side this time.”

“Yeah. Turns out we make a pretty good team.”

“We should work together more often. Maybe go somewhere while we’re both off duty. We could go to a museum or see a movie…”

Zero-Point raised his weathered hand. “Let’s talk about dates _after_ we’re not about to pass out.”

“I-I didn’t use the word _date!_ ” sputtered Realist as a bright red blush came to his cheeks. 

“You might as well have.” Zero-Point casually wrapped his arm around Realist’s waist and started to walk off with his companion in tow.

“Hey, what about all the collateral damage from that fight?”

“Eh, who cares?” Zero-Point shrugged. “Agent Equanimity’ll pay for it; he’s loaded.”

“True...hm, maybe that nonchalance of yours is nice to have around.” 

Zero-Point almost made some snappy comeback in return, but decided against it. Right now, all that mattered was recovering from their injuries—and getting to know each other better as they lay in their neighboring hospital beds. He’d probably need some earplugs to drown out all the yapping...But then again, he might enjoy the talking. 


End file.
